


Start Your Engines

by starspangledsprocket



Series: Commissions [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Clint is Steve's brother, F/M, Gun Violence, M/M, Mechanic!Tony, trigger warning: blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4159932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledsprocket/pseuds/starspangledsprocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is keeping a secret from his family - he's actually the leader of an underground biker gang. When his brother, Clint, gets kidnapped by a rival gang, Steve has to rethink his choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start Your Engines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manorabrucelee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manorabrucelee/gifts).



> This is a commission for manorabrucelee over on Tumblr, who wanted biker gang leader Steve fearing nothing and nobody but his tiny boyfriend Tony. This comes with a side order of Clint as Steve’s brother being kidnapped by a rival gang, and a whole lot of angst.

The sun was just beginning to shine through the cracks in their curtains when Steve woke up that morning. Tony’s warm, solid weight was pressed up against his back, his arms wrapped loosely around him as he slept, and Steve smiled, rolling on the spot to face him.

“Tony?” he murmured, leaning forwards to kiss his pouty, sleep-warmed lips. “Come on, honey, it’s time to get up.”

Tony made a soft whining noise at the back of his throat and tugged Steve a little closer. Without opening his eyes, he grumbled, “Jus’ five more minutes.”

Steve smiled and then kissed him again, but ultimately had to pull away despite Tony’s whining. “You’re going to be late.”

“It’s my business,” Tony mumbled, cocooning himself in blankets as Steve rolled away and got out of bed. “I can open whenever I want.”

“Mrs. Finnigan has an appointment with you for a tire change at 9am,” Steve reminded him as he padded across the room to grab his towel from the dresser. That, at least, seemed to stir Tony a little more, because he slowly dragged himself into a sitting position, whining the whole time.

“How is it that you know my schedule better than I do?” he grunted, rubbing a gentle fist against his eyes. Steve paused for a moment to watch him, charmed by the sight.

“Because I love you,” he replied eventually, forcing himself towards the door. “It’s _my_  job to make sure you keep  _your_  job.”

“Again, I own the business!” Tony yelled after him as he padded across the tiny landing to the bathroom across the way.

—

After a quick shower (and having to physically tug Tony out of bed when he darted back into their room), Steve dressed himself in his usual tight jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket, and then padded down the creaky old stairs of his Ma’s house.

Still living with his mother and adopted younger brother, Clint, in their tiny Brooklyn house at the age of twenty five hadn’t exactly been what Steve had envisioned for himself when he was younger. Factoring Tony into the mix just made things all the worse, but he couldn’t go home to his abusive family, and he earned a decent amount fixing up cars, sure, but not enough to buy a place of their own in New York. Tony had nowhere else to go, basically, and Steve’s Ma had always been a sucker for a stray – Clint was evidence enough of that. It just meant that things were a little tight, four of them living in her tiny house.

On his way into the kitchen, Steve almost stepped on what he soon realised was one of Clint’s hearing aids. Rolling his eyes, he stooped to pick it up and carried it with him through the kitchen door.

“Good morning,” he smiled at his Ma, who was already up and standing by the stove. The smell of sizzling bacon hit him, and he hummed. “Smells good.”

“There are eggs on the table,” his Ma replied, accepting the kiss he planted on her cheek as he passed with a smile. “And please don’t antagonise your brother. He’s in one of his quiet moods this morning.”

“No he’s not,” Steve sang, holding up the hearing aid. “He just dropped this.”

His Ma sighed and rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder to where Clint was tucked up at the table in the corner of the room, hood up and eyes firmly on his cereal.

Clint was fifteen. Steve’s Ma had taken him in at the age of seven after having found him rummaging through their garbage cans for food. He’d never really told them the full story, but they were both pretty sure he’d run away from a very abusive household. It had apparently been bad enough that when his Ma had officially requested to adopt him a year later, she’d been granted full guardianship pretty much immediately. Clint being deaf had proved a bit of a challenge for them both, and Steve still remembered washing cars for a whole summer when he was younger so he and his Ma could afford to take a sign language course, but Clint was family, and he deserved their love and respect.

That didn’t mean that Steve wasn’t going to smack him upside the head for continuously misplacing his hearing aids.

 _You dropped this,_ he signed as he sat down opposite Clint at the table, placing the hearing aid between them. Clint, at least, had the decency to look a little ashamed.

“Thanks,” he mumbled in reply, pushing his hood back so he could fit it in his left ear. The right one, Steve was pleased to see, was already in his ear.

“You’ve got to be more careful with it, bud,” Steve sighed, grabbing a plate from the pile his Ma had placed on the table. Picking up a spoon, he started dumping eggs onto his plate. “What if I’d trodden on it?”

“I know,” Clint rolled his eyes, cracking a little smile. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Steve smiled back. “Just make sure you’re wearing them, okay? Otherwise we’re gonna have to put a bell on you, you sneak around so quietly.”

Clint looked like he was about to dispute that, but before he could get a word out Tony came slumping into the kitchen, whining helplessly and not even dressed. He staggered across the room and came to a stop behind Steve’s Ma, planting his head firmly against the back of her shoulder as he groaned unintelligibly.

“Good morning, honey,” his Ma hummed, reaching a hand back to pet his messy hair. Steve felt his heart bursting with happiness as he watched them interact. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

“I adore you,” Tony whispered in return, and Clint snorted into his cereal. “You’re my sun, my moon -”

“He’s really out of it today, huh?” Steve’s Ma laughed, peering back at Steve.

“I don’t even think he’s showered to wake himself up a little,” Steve replied, leaning over the back of his chair to tug Tony away from her, before pushing him gently towards the coffee pot on the counter.

Tony was like a cuddly limpet in the mornings, clinging to the nearest person he could find. He could barely function before a couple of cups of coffee, and so reverted back to a little boy, craving attention, becoming very tactile with anyone who showed him even the smallest amount of attention. Of course, he grumbled about it later when he was fully awake, but Steve thought it was adorable.

“So, what’s your plan for the day?” his Ma asked as she finally sat down at the table, placing a plate stacked with bacon between them.

“Well, the clubhouse needs fixing up a little,” Steve hummed around a mouthful of eggs. “A couple of kids broke some windows. Then me and the guys are gonna transport some stuff over to the toy drive at the rec. center later.”

“Can I come?” Clint asked hopefully, tucking his chair in as he spoke so Tony could squeeze past to sit at the table with them.

“The day you get an A in Math is the day I let you come to work with me,” Steve replied with a raised eyebrow, and grinned when Clint scowled at him. “Come on, Clint, we both know you’re smart enough to get into college. You wanna be doing crappy odds and ends jobs like me for the rest of your life?”

“You still won’t tell us exactly what you even do,”  _Clint_  mumbled. “You seem to do something different everyday.”

“Exactly,” Steve hummed, finishing the last of his breakfast. “There’s no stability. You don’t wanna live like that, mooching off Ma for the rest of your life. You could have your own place – somewhere in the city.”

“But -”

“No buts. Get your grades up,” he told him, getting to his feet. He kissed his Ma on the cheek, then grabbed Clint to kiss him on the crown of his head, and finally planted a kiss on Tony’s lips. “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll see you all tonight.”

He left the room as they were all saying their goodbyes to him and grabbed his boots in the hall, quickly slipping them on. Once he was ready, he grabbed his motorcycle keys off the table by the door, and then, making sure that nobody had followed him, pulled a drawer open, grabbed the revolver inside, and was tucking it safely into the back of his pants as he opened the front door and stepped out.

—

It wasn’t really like he was lying to them. He did do odd jobs as they came about – that was all true. He just so happened to pick up those jobs through being the leader of an underground biker gang.

He really did have to fix the clubhouse’s windows, but it hadn’t been kids; HYDRA, a group of neo-Nazis that paraded around as a rival biker gang, had been looking for trouble. Luckily they had disappeared before Steve and his gang had been able to find them, but it wasn’t the first time they’d gotten into turf wars. Tony, at least, knew the truth, because he’d had to pick Steve up from the hospital more than once after a fight.

Tony had promised to keep quiet in exchange for Steve promising never again. So far, he had managed to keep that promise. He hadn’t been back to the hospital.

The toy drive was real, too. Steve was the leader of a biker gang, sure, but that didn’t mean they were evil. Besides, the kids always loved a bit of a show, and they could use their somewhat menacing demeanour to get people to donate. All Steve had to think about was Clint, about how he would have spent his childhood if his Ma hadn’t found him, and he found he could be quite persuasive.

There were already a number of bikes parked outside the gang’s club house when he got there. The building wasn’t really all that spectacular – in actual fact, it was a small, abandoned warehouse – but they usually kept the outside as respectable looking as they could. Now, with the windows boarded up, it looked exactly like what it was – a stronghold for an illegal biker gang.

He was gonna have to speak to the guys about not parking their bikes out on the street.

Pulling up, he killed the engine and climbed off, kicking the stand out so his bike wouldn’t fall over as he moved away. Readjusting the gun in the back of his pants discreetly, he tweaked his stance so he looked a little more intimidating, and then strode over to the boarded up door.

It was darker than usual inside because of the windows, but it was usually pretty dark in the club house anyway. Someone – Bruce, probably – had lit a bunch of candles, and somebody else had fed the meter, because the electric lights were flickering.

Steve was proud of their club house. It wasn’t particularly glamorous, of course, but they had a bar (plus bartender in Bruce), an assortment of chairs and tables, and even a pool table that Bucky had shown up with one day, lips tightly sealed on where he’d actually gotten it. It wasn’t much, but it was like a second home to Steve.

“Cap’s here!” someone called, having obviously spotted Steve coming in, and everyone started automatically moving tables and chairs, pushing them together so they could all sit for their daily team meeting.

Steve took his place at the head of them all once they’d all found their seats – Sam, Bucky and Natasha on his left, Wanda, Pietro, Bruce and Thor on his right. They fell respectfully quiet without prompting, as they always did, and waited for him to speak.

“All right, first thing’s first,” he jumped right in. “We’ve got to find better places to park everyone’s bikes. I know the police are leaving us alone for now since we gave them info on HYDRA, but we don’t want to raise suspicion all the same.”

“There’s a storage unit place nearby,” Sam suggested. “We could rent a unit out, park ‘em in there everyday. It’d mean walking a couple of blocks to get here, but we could all use the exercise.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bucky huffed, flexing his heavily tattooed flesh and bone arm. “I’m in top physical condition -”

“Guys,” Steve warned, and they fell quiet again. “That sounds good, Sam. Get their number, book us a unit or two depending on how big they are.

“Next,” he moved on swiftly before everyone could start chattering again, “Pietro, Wanda, you said you know a guy that can help fix our windows for a discount price?”

Pietro and Wanda used to be HYDRA members, and Steve was pretty sure they had been members of the Russian Mafia before that (though he was also pretty sure they weren’t actually Russian). They had changed sides after realising that HYDRA were no good, that they wanted control of the city rather than to make it a better place like Steve and his gang, but they still had a tonne of contacts that were willing to help out.

“I will call,” Wanda nodded.

“Great, thanks,” Steve nodded. “Okay, so that just leaves the toy drive later. Did everyone pick up the toys ready for -”

Suddenly, a series of loud bangs and crashes came from outside, cutting Steve off. Pausing for a second, shocked, Steve made himself move from his seat – the others hot on his tail – and ran for the door. Outside, the street was in complete chaos. HYDRA were there, circling on their bikes, laughing as they took it in turns to drive past and take bats to Steve’s and the other’s parked bikes.

The Red Skull, leader of the gang and aptly named because of the huge red skull tattoo covering his whole face, came to a stop right in front of them, and only then did Steve realise, with a sickening jolt, that there was someone tied up on the back of his bike.

It was Clint.

“You snitch to the cops,” the Red Skull yelled, manic grin on his face. “We take something you love.”

Then, laughing hysterically, he drove away, Clint screaming around the gag in his mouth, with the rest of his cronies following along behind.

Steve felt like he was going to be sick. For a moment time seemed to still, his breath caught in his throat, and all he could see was Clint’s confused, terrified face as he was taken away from him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, couldn’t think – all he was was the single tear running down Clint’s face.

“- messed up my fucking bike -”

“- gonna call a tow truck to take them to a -”

“- your brother, Cap? How did they -?”

All at once, the world shuddered back to life with sickening speed, and Steve felt a little dizzy. Taking a deep breath, then another, he managed to gasp out, “Take the bike to Tony’s. He’ll – he’s the best in town.”

The gang knew that Steve was seeing someone, but they didn’t know it was another man, and they certainly didn’t know it was Tony. He tried to keep his work and private life as separate as he could to protect each party.

Looked like he hadn’t been careful enough.

—

Tony was already waiting outside his shop when the tow truck dropped them off. By the look of his crossed arms and firm brow, Steve guessed he wasn’t too happy, either, but he found he didn’t really have enough strength to care. Clint was still out there with those monsters, and the faster Tony could fix up their bikes, the faster they could find him and get him home safely.

“Do my gifts mean nothing to you?” Tony asked mildly as Steve stepped out of the truck, watching the others as they helped get the bikes down. “Three bikes I’ve made for you, and every one’s been sent back in pieces -”

“Tony,” Steve tried wearily, reaching a hand out for him, only to have it slapped away.

“Don’t you  _Tony_  me,” Tony snapped, voice rising. “You promised me you were done with the stupid stunts and the hospital trips. You  _promised_. God fucking – are you hurt? How hard did you come off the stupid -”

“I wasn’t on it, Tony,” Steve told him, reaching to hold Tony’s hand in both of his own when he started patting him down for injuries. “I didn’t fall; I’m fine.”

“Then you…” Emotions flickered across Tony’s face, first relief and then confusion. “How the hell did they all get into that state, then?”

“HYDRA paid us a visit,” Steve replied, following Tony into the garage as the others wheeled what was left of their bikes inside. “They… Tony, they have Clint.”

His voice cracked over the words, he knew they did, and Tony completely froze, staring at him in horror.

“I was trying to do the right thing,” Steve hiccuped, desperately trying to hold back tears in front of his team. “You told me to stop fighting, so… so I went to the police…”

“You snitched,” Tony replied slowly, expression hardening, “and now a Nazi sympathising biker gang has your fifteen year old brother hostage -”

“You  _told_  me to -”

“I told you to stop putting yourself in danger, not to provoke them!” Tony yelled, running nervous hands through his already messy hair. “Don’t you dare, don’t you _dare_ blame me for this! I wanted everyone safe, not in more danger!”

Steve was shaking, full bodied. His hands trembled by his sides and it was all he could do not to ball them into fists. He’d automatically ducked his head as Tony started yelling, trying to make himself smaller, and he knew that they had to make a sight – Tony, tiny, lithe, 5'9 Tony screaming at him – but he couldn’t find the strength to fight back. He had been stupid, and he knew this was his fault, and Tony was just scared, had always been scared that something like this might happen.

“I’m…” Tony took a deep breath, must have seen something break in Steve’s expression, because he stopped yelling. “I’m not going to be able to fix them all today. There are too many, I… I have some working bikes in the back. They’re not beefy like these, but… but they’ll be fast. You should take them.”

Steve knew a Tony apology when he heard one, and stepped forwards. Just as he thought he would, Tony opened his arms and let Steve fold himself into them, hugging him tightly. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s middle and hugged back, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment to compose himself.

“Come on,” Tony hummed, gently curling his fingers around the nape of Steve’s neck to soothe him. “Come on, Clint’s gonna be fine. I’m… I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You’re right, though,” Steve sighed, gripping the back of Tony’s wife-beater a little harder. “I was stupid, going to the police. I don’t know what I thought would happen -”

“But now this has happened, and we’ve just got to deal with it,” Tony cut him off, and then shifted onto his tiptoes to give Steve a gentle kiss. “It’ll be okay. We both know Clint’s strong; kid’s the scrappiest little shit I’ve ever seen.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile a little at that, because Tony was right. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he tipped his head forwards to momentarily rest against Tony’s, and then he pulled back completely.

“Yeah,” he nodded, purposefully ignoring the others when he realised they were all watching them, “you’re right. Let’s go get him back.”

Tony grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

—

“So when I offered to set you up with a bunch of girls…?” Natasha yelled from her bike as they sped through the streets towards HYDRA’s clubhouse.

“I was secretly already living with my long term mechanic boyfriend, yes,” Steve replied briskly. “Can we please drop this -”

“We are  _never_  dropping this,” Bucky called from his other side, rolling his eyes as Pietro sped past them dangerously quickly, whooping happily. That kid was a speed freak. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“The same reason I haven’t told my family what I do with you guys,” Steve replied. “The same reason I carry a gun down the back of my pants.”

“The mechanic’s gun, Captain?” Thor cackled as he zoomed past them, and Steve just rolled his eyes.

“For protection,” he clarified loudly. “To keep the people I care about safe.”

“Aw, Cap, you care about us?” Sam grinned as he levelled off with them all.

“Of course I do,” Steve grumbled. “Now eyes on the road, everyone, and quit it about my love life!”

They sped through the city in companionable silence after that, knowing from previous gang wars where they were going. About a block away from HYDRA’s clubhouse, they came to a stop and parked their bikes. Bucky then led them down an alley that would bring them out where they needed to be.

HYDRA’s clubhouse was very similar to their own; they were based in what looked like an old restaurant, but now just looked run down and boarded up. Many of the buildings around them seemed to have suffered a similar fate, though those looked truly abandoned.

“We need a distraction,” Steve decided, throwing an arm out to stop anyone stepping out into plain sight where HYDRA goons could be watching. “Natasha, you’re good at sneaking into places, right?”

She was ex-military, like Bucky and Sam, so he hoped so.

“It’s top of my resume,” she replied dryly.

“Okay, we’re gonna create a diversion,” Steve instructed to everyone, gesturing them in to a tight circle. “We wanna draw them out onto the street, so make as much noise as possible. While we’re doing that, Natasha, I want you to find a way in and get Clint out as quick as possible, okay? Don’t wait for us – as soon as you’ve got him, make a break for it back to Tony’s garage. Text when you’re safe and we’ll rendezvous with you there later, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Pietro nodded, and was zipping off back down the alley to grab his bike before anyone else could reply.

With the plan in place, Natasha took her bike and disappeared, probably to park it on the street behind the clubhouse for easier access. While she was doing that, Steve and the rest of them rode quietly up the alley and waited for her signal, which came in the form of a text.

_In position. Whenever you’re ready._

Without further ado, Steve revved his engine loudly, the others doing the same, and let out an inhuman scream as he burst forwards into the street, drawing his gun as he did so. He fired a few shots into the air and heard them echo along the street, the others’ echoing gunshots rattling back at him. Someone had picked up some rocks – Wanda, he realised – and was throwing them at the door of the clubhouse. Sam had a baseball bat, and was tapping it repeatedly against the side of his bike as he rode one handed to make some noise.

They only had to circle the stretch of street outside the clubhouse for a few moments before HYDRA members came pouring out. They looked startled for a moment, as though they hadn’t expected Steve to come after them, but then they started yelling and laughing, passing guns and things to throw out of the door.

Steve had really hoped it wouldn’t come to a shoot-out, but it was starting to look like they wouldn’t have a choice.

He had to duck to avoid the first bullet, and thought in passing that he was going to have to ask Tony to develop some kind of shield for the front of his bike in the future. Bucky zipped past him, gun in hand, and started shooting at the wheels of HYDRA’s bikes. Realising what he was trying to do, Steve yelled, “Shoot their tyres! Make sure they can’t follow us!”

After that, the battle became more heated. The Red Skull appeared from the doorway looking pissed, and Steve spotted the machine gun in his hands just a second too late. He let bullets fly, and there was a brief moment where Steve found himself thankful that he didn’t seem to be a good shot, but then a strangled cry from somewhere near caught his ears and his heart caught in his throat.

By the time he had turned, had dodged a series of bullets that seemed to be coming from everywhere, Pietro was already off his bike and in a heap on the ground, covered in blood. Steve heard Wanda scream, and knew that she had realised what had happened, too.

Before he had consciously decided what to do, Steve had aimed his gun and put a single, final bullet right between the Red Skull’s eyes, letting his anger steady his hand. In the chaos that followed, he revved his engine and then sped forwards towards Pietro. He wasn’t moving, but that didn’t mean he was dead, and Steve didn’t stop to find out as he used his bike to cover them for a second while he pulled Pietro up onto the saddle behind him.

“He needs medical attention!” Thor roared as he rode past, brandishing what looked like a sledgehammer, of all things.

Steve was just about to agree when, as though an angel with impeccable timing was looking down on them, he heard his phone chime a text in his pocket. Not even stopping to check it, because he knew who it would be, he screamed, “She’s got him! Everyone retreat!” and then sped back down the alley with Pietro’s limp body still draped across his back.

He could hear the others following, and risked a look back; HYDRA were trying to chase them on foot, but were getting further and further away, fight draining out of them as they realised it was over, that their leader was dead.

“We can’t take him to the hospital,” Sam yelled, nodding towards Pietro. “Take him back to our place; Bruce is still there, and I’m sure he’s said he has some basic medical training.”

“He needs more than basic medical training right now!” Steve yelled back, adrenaline still thrumming in his veins, but he still took a left turn that would take them back to their clubhouse. “Shit, Bucky, call Natasha and tell her we’re dropping off casualties at base before we meet them. Someone call Bruce and tell him to be ready for us!”

Wanda levelled off next to him, her stare watery and broken as she looked at Pietro.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Steve told her, and didn’t know who he was trying to convince. “He’s gonna be fine.”

He just hoped he was right.  

—

Bruce was waiting outside when they pulled up, looking terrified. Thor plucked Pietro’s limp body off the back of Steve’s bike as he skidded to a stop and carried him inside quickly, Wanda following a hair width’s distance behind. Taking a deep breath, Steve forced himself to kick out his bike stand and then climb off, and was the last inside as everyone raced to see what was going on.

Bruce had prepped for surgery by throwing a clean sheet over the pool table, of all things, and was instructing Thor to lay Pietro down on it when Steve entered the building. Quickly running his hands under the facet behind the bar, Bruce ran over and started looking Pietro over whilst everyone gathered around.

“Give them some space,” Steve found himself barking, not in the mood to be disobeyed, and watched as everyone took a few steps back, some even sinking into seats to wait.

Wanda remained stubbornly by Pietro’s side. She clutched his hand in what had to be a crushing grip, and no-one mentioned how she was crying quietly. Steve couldn’t say in all honesty that he didn’t feel like bursting into tears, either.

“It’s just one gunshot wound,” Bruce announced quietly, hunched over Pietro’s shoulder. “It looks like it’s gone straight through, which… that’s good. That’ll heal. The only thing that we really have to worry about is how much blood he’s lost.”

“Can’t you just sew him up so he can make more?” Bucky asked, padding over to grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar. He took a swig right out of the bottle.

“He won’t be able to generate more and heal himself fast enough,” Bruce ran a hand over his face. “Ideally, he needs a transfusion, but it’s not like we can just go into a hospital and ask for a bag of blood -”

“Take mine,” Wanda replied evenly, already rolling up her sleeve. “Take it, heal him.”

“It’s not as simple as -” Bruce stuttered when he saw the expression on Wanda’s face. “Are you even the same blood type?”

“We are twins,” Wanda replied fiercely. “We are two halves of the same being. Take my blood and save him.”

Bruce paused for a moment, obviously overwhelmed by the responsibility, before, taking a deep breath, he started tugging supplies out of the expansive first aid kit they usually kept under the bar.

“Okay,” he nodded, taking another deep breath. “Okay.”

—

It took a couple of hours, but by the time Bruce had sewed up Pietro’s entrance and exit wounds, and then had given him an emergency transfusion of Wanda’s blood, it looked like he was going to make a full recovery. They’d had to go without anaesthetic, which hadn’t been a fun experience for anyone in the room, honestly, but Pietro was going to be fine; he was resting groggily on a makeshift nest they’d made out of sheets and spare articles of clothing with Wanda wrapped around him protectively.

Steve ached all over, so he couldn’t possibly imagine how much Pietro hurt. Adrenaline was still thrumming through his veins, which was helping, but by the time he stepped back outside with Bucky to ride over to Tony’s garage it was quickly starting to wane, leaving him jittery and exhausted.

The ride over was completely silent, save for the purr of their bikes’ engines. Now he knew everyone else was safe, Steve was beginning to realise the true nature of what they – of what  _he_  had done.

He was shaking like a leaf by the time they pulled up outside Tony’s place, and staggered off his bike like a drunkard, breath coming short in his chest. Tony came running out to them, Natasha and Clint stood a little further back looking completely unharmed, and Steve all but fell into his boyfriend’s arms when Tony held them out to him.

“I killed someone,” he whispered, whole body quivering. “I – I -”

“- covered in blood, honey, Jesus,” Tony was saying, stuttering, looking terrified. “Steve?”

Steve looked down and realised that, yes, he was covered in blood.

“It’s not mine,” he mumbled, pulling at the material with a gross fascination. He felt a little faint. “Pietro got shot. He’s – he’s fine -” But then he noticed a little hole in the side of his shirt, and when he pivoted to get a better look at it, he realised distantly that there was also a hole in his side. “Oh.”

He was on the ground before Tony could catch him.

—

When he woke up, Steve felt strange. His body thrummed oddly, and his brain was telling him that he should probably be in pain, but there was a complete lack of feeling altogether. Suddenly overcome by fear, his eyes snapped open, only for him to let out a deep, whistling breath when the first thing he saw was Clint laying, completely unhurt, next to him.

 _It’s okay,_ Clint signed silently, a small, worried smile playing at the corners of his lips.  _Everyone’s okay. You’re on a lot of pain meds._

It took a moment for Steve to get his hand coordinated enough to reply,  _Did they hurt you?_

Clint shook his head.  _No. They shot you, though._

Steve nodded, remembering in frightening detail that there had been a hole in his side. He took a moment to just breathe, body shuddering a little, and then he stilled when an arm – Tony’s arm, he realised – wrapped around him from behind, and a warm, sleep-limp body pressed against his back.

It was only with that revelation that he also realised that he wasn’t in a hospital bed, or even at Tony’s garage, but tucked up safely in his own bed at home.

 _How did you get me home? Did Bruce patch me up?_ he signed, and Clint just shook his head, looking a little sheepish.

 _Ma did,_ he replied, and Steve had to close his eyes for a moment to let that sink in.

He was in  _so_  much trouble.

“We didn’t know what else to do,” Clint murmured out loud, and Steve opened his eyes again. “We tried calling Bruce, but we all kinda just panicked, so we took you to Ma at the surgery and she patched you up.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, throat feeling scratchy and underused. “Okay. How mad is she?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days, so she’s had a long time to stew on it,” Clint replied with a grimace. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” Steve shook his head fiercely, moving his hand up to gently cup the back of Clint’s neck. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about, okay? This is completely my fault; I dragged you all into this -”

“You lied to us,” Clint whispered, bottom lip trembling, and that cut Steve deeper than any bullet ever could. “All this time -”

“I was trying to keep you safe,” he replied, voice cracking. “I was trying to – I wanted to make the city safer for you to grow up in. I never meant to get caught up in HYDRA’s shit, I swear.”

“Is that why you would never let me come with you?” Clint asked, wiping his eyes quickly. “I thought you’d lost your job and just didn’t want to tell Ma, that’s why you wouldn’t let me tag along -”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Steve sighed, leaning forwards to rest their foreheads together. “Looks like I didn’t do too good a job of that, huh?”

“Well, I dunno, I mean, I got to ride on the back of Natasha’s bike, wrap my arms around her and get real close,” Clint began, and Steve chuckled lightly.

“You got a thing for Natasha, huh?” he grinned, ruffling Clint’s hair. “Well, you’re gonna have to fight Bucky for her, kid, and he’s not too good at sharing.”

“He’s got the sickest tattoos,” Clint hummed, “and his metal arm’s awesome. I think I approve of her being with him.”

“How gracious of you, putting her first,” Steve laughed, and then continued laughing quietly when Tony groaned from behind him and slapped him lightly on the chest.

“Some of us need time to recuperate from traumatic experiences, Steve,” Tony grumbled, his breath hot against Steve’s back. “Shut up and at least pretend to be asleep before your Ma comes in here and reams you out.”

Steve grinned and reached up with his free hand to link his and Tony’s fingers together against his chest. “Yes, boss.”


End file.
